


for every sword a sheath

by tsunderestorm



Category: Code Geass
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: If Suzaku is a sword, then Lelouch is a sheath - a bittersweet reminder in the days preceding Zero Requiem.





	for every sword a sheath

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write flowery language and disjointed thoughts, so these two seemed a proper place to compromise.

“The other day,” Lelouch says as his fingers trace patterns along Suzaku’s back. They map the sharp blades of his shoulders, the muscles that ripple beneath tan skin and the bumps of his spine, re-discovering every inch of his lover that he’s already committed to memory. “You told C.C. that you were my sword - ”

Suzaku leans into the touch, head bumping his hand when Lelouch moves to brush his hair back from his face. Messy hair, haven’t left the bedroom in days hair, hair for running fingers through and Lelouch’s fingers card through it easily, twining a curl around one elegant finger.

“...that it was your job to rid me of my enemies and weakness.”

Suzaku remembers it. A beautiful analogy, but a painful one: a sword he is, just like the sword with its jewel-encrusted hilt that will be the deadliest prop in the last act of Lelouch’s elaborate play. He says nothing of that now, only ducks his head and kisses Lelouch’s chest, lips fluttering just above where his heart still beats. _For now_ , he thinks morbidly, wondering if Lelouch will still command his attention even when he’s a corpse in a coffin, if he’ll want to bend to kiss his liar’s lips one last time even when there’s no warmth to be felt from them.

“I did,” Suzaku says as he settles into the cradle of Lelouch’s legs, hands skimming up his creamy inner thighs. “It is.”

“If you are my sword, then let me be your sheath.” Lelouch says it softly, quietly, almost pleading, for a second no longer the proud emperor he plays at being now that they’re behind closed doors. He’s hot and needy when Suzaku grinds against him, ready for it in a way that still makes Suzaku’s belly burn hot even then rage and betrayal has settled in like a cage around his hardened heart. When he drags his cock against the slickness of him it’s like Lelouch is welcoming him, like he’s beckoning him inside with the way his body sucks at the head of his cock.!

 _A sheath._ Every knight has a blade, Suzaku thinks, and every blade has a title (his is Knight of Zero) and Lelouch is right, every blade needs a sheath. When Lelouch’s eyes are heavy with lust, he doesn’t look like a demon or a murderer to be punished or a monster to be put down. Mostly he just looks like _his,_ and so Suzaku makes him that, letting the tight heat of Lelouch’s skinny body envelop him as he slides inside.

It hurts. Not the sex, no - that feels just as good as it always has. It’s fervent and feverish, like he’s dangling off a precipice or walking on a tightrope, like if just _one_ last thread of self-control slipped away he could fuck Lelouch half-stupid. _Like it always has_ , he thinks, like they’re an old married couple now trying to stay together the kids, like they’ve been having off-and-on breakup and makeup sex for years instead of sporadically for the past year. Like the idea of forever was ever something they had a shot at, like Lelouch hadn’t been lying and he wasn’t Zero from the first day Suzaku showed up at Ashford.

His _heart_ hurts. He can’t help the flashes of Euphemia’s sweet face, the faces of the fields of bodies he walked through as a result of Zero’s schemes, and it’s only because he’s so desperate to feel something that it isn’t killing the mood. It hurts to look into Lelouch’s eyes as much as it hurts to look away, hurts to feel those puppeteer’s hands on his back as much as he whines for the touch when Lelouch takes them away. It hurts to know, when Lelouch talks like this, all poetic and heartfelt, that maybe they could have been something.

Lelouch is different like this. He’s not the emperor when he’s under Suzaku with his legs up over his knight’s shoulders - he’s just a person, a person with pretty violet eyes that don’t have the hateful red tinge of geass, with creamy skin that doesn’t have any bloodstains on it. He’s just _Lelouch._ His wordplay is erotic and not deadly, and his commands of _more, please_ are much better than all of the orders he’d issued to kill.

“Say it again,” Suzaku says as he adjusts his position, sliding back home and earning a low, pleasure-filled moan from Lelouch. “You talk so much, Lu, lets hear some more.”

It sounds spiteful when he says it. Angry, maybe, but really it’s just clipped because he’s putting all his energy into driving into Lelouch with all the pent-up desire he’s been biting back, trying to focus his thoughts that haven’t stopped moving at one hundred miles an hour since all of this started into one singular thing. He’d held back for so long from falling back into bed with Lelouch, convincing himself it was a betrayal to Euphy, that he was in yet another way a monster for wanting to make love to a murderer. None of that matters when they’re well past the beginning of the end.

He doubts Lelouch can even talk, doubts he could form even a vulgar “ _fuck me_ ” at this point but he wants it, wants to hate and love himself all at once in the moments in between beats of his traitor’s heart. That’s where Lelouch lives in him, the graveyard where all the things they could have had go to die, the place he’ll immortalize Lelouch in forever after their promise is fulfilled. It’s hungry _,_ as hungry as the way Lelouch’s body clutches at his cock, _starving_ for Lelouch’s low voice saying all the things he shouldn’t still want to hear. He’s desperate to remember how he sounds, knows he’ll want the memories after the Requiem is fulfilled.

 _Requiem._ It’s a pretty word. Flowery, dramatic...perfect for Lelouch, to name his death after something performative. A musical composition, a song. The only song Suzaku wants to hear right now is the half-broken sounds of Lelouch’s moans, raw and honest because for once they aren’t lies; a song set to the rhythm of their hips slapping together.

Lelouch can’t seem to find his tongue to talk as Suzaku fucks into him, stuttering as he’s pressed down against the bed. “My...sword, Suzak - _oh!”_

Suzaku likes _this_ Lelouch, loves him as he always has (the same ways, but different) and hates him just like he hates himself. He knows he’s responsible for his own insipid spine, knows he can’t blame Lelouch for the fact that when they came back together to fulfill their plan it was in _all_ ways.

“You’re...relentless!” Lelouch gasps, panting even though all he’s done is lay there and take it. Suzaku has an ugly thought, then. (He has a lot of them.) If he’d just stayed with Lelouch more, kept him fucked-out and listless in his bed at Ashford maybe there would never have been Zero and maybe Euphy would still be alive. Lelouch is weak, he would have been easy to incapacitate and he’ll be easy to kill. He shakes it away and drives in almost painfully and Lelouch rewards him with welts on his shoulders and he thinks _god_ , _we deserve to destroy each other._

Then he betrays himself again and thinks, _I’d rather remember love than more hate._

Even as he’s changing the pace for a softer, shifting mood, Lelouch’s tears taste like victory when they run down his face, match Suzaku’s as he presses their foreheads together. He hushes him every time he tries to say anything beyond _more_ , anything other than _please..._ they’re allowed to be sweet and they’re allowed to be soft. It doesn’t have to be biting tongue and bruising hands, it can be Lelouch’s touch at the back of his neck and Suzaku’s hands skimming down Lelouch’s sides as he tugs him closer against him, buries himself deeper still inside of his first friend.

“I’m your sword, I’m your knight, I’m _yours_ ,” Suzaku says, lips mashed unceremoniously against Lelouch’s cheek. “I’ve always been yours and Nunnally’s.”

 _I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours,_ he’d said that to Euphy too and even if he hadn’t pulled the trigger, her blood was on his hands as much as Lelouch’s. But now their hands are clasped in word and in deed, Lelouch’s palm-up on the bed to cradle Suzaku’s and they’re _together_ , and even when it all hurts it feels _good_ , too.

In a rare burst of energy Lelouch rises to meet Suzaku’s hips as he climaxes, panting as his face flushes from exertion and embarrassment. “And I’ll - _ah_ , die yours, Suzaku...Kururugi.”


End file.
